| a day to remember |
[16 Nov 2007|05:58pm] |
Daughter's Nov. 11 chat with veteran brought tears to our eyes, by IAN ROBINSON
When my daughter Jillian was eight, we took her to the then-Museum of the Regiments on Remembrance Day.
My wife's dad and uncle fought in the Second World War: Her dad John, on a corvette guarding convoys in the North Atlantic, her uncle Clayton fighting his way up the Italian boot, cheerfully carving up the enemy with his bayonet and sending home souvenirs of his kills (unit patches and Iron Crosses) to his mom, many of which are now on display in the small-town Legion where he grew up.
John's eyes would get misty when he talked about the friends he made who never came back.
Clayt never got misty. Ever.
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